That was easy. I knew as soon as I thought those words it was a mistake. The job wasn’t done, anything could go wrong still. Stealing the fancy box had been fairly straight forward. Mind, I ain’t no theif. At least most of the time. I’m a merc, mercenary, sword-for-hire but when my pockets are empty, I dabble in thievery. If the pay is enough.
This time the pay was more than enough. Too much almost. Caid Caellan doesn’t look a gift horse in the mouth and if a client wants to pay generously for a little theivery, who am I to complain?
My rooms were in the Traders Corner. Traders kept hours that were compatible with mine. They slept at night and left me free to wander about without anyone sticking their nose in. During the day, they were too busy with their businesses to bother me in bed. It was a good arrangement.
I strutted along a deserted street towards bed. The meet with the client for the exchange was tomorrow night. I thought longingly of the Red Light district but I had to guard this all-important box and until I had my payment I couldn’t afford what I wanted from the ladies there.
A faint scrape of a boot against the cobbles was all the warning I had before I was jumped. It doesn’t take much to surprise me and that let me know that either these gents were professionals or had help. The magic kind of help. And that let me know that this wasn’t your usual run-of-the-mill mugging. One long knife was in my hand faster than thought and a bright flash of steel flew from my other and burrowed itself in the throat of one of my assailants.
One less dance partner for the party.
Three scruffy men in thick leather jerkins formed a triangle with me in the center. Each of them had a sharp weapon in their hands and were ready to use them. Clearly not a capture the merc mission.
I waggled my fingers at the one with the blond bedhead. “Let’s dance.” I drew a second knife and held it with the blade along my bracered forearm. The familiar crooked smile stretched across my face. I loved this part. Me against them. Proving who is better. The ultimate prize for the winner. Life.
For the space of several breaths, grunts, clashing metal, and the slap of flesh against flesh filled the air. Another gent went down and unless he could survive a hands length of steel punched through the gut, he wasn’t getting up again.
“Is that the best you can do, boys? I haven’t even broke a sweat yet.”
“Perhaps I can fix that.” A brown man stepped onto the street; brown because he had brown hair, brown eyes, and wore brown robes and onto the street because he had been floating above me and settled to the ground.
“Oh crap.” The words had barely escaped my lips when I was caught in a mage’s trap. A sick purple glow encircled my wrists and throat holding me still and sweating. I hated magic. Magic was for cheaters, no clean skill against skill contest there. But sure enough, the mage was right. I was sweating.
“The great Caid laid low by a single spell. By your reputation I thought you’d be … taller.”
“What can I say? I’m tall enough to get the job done. “ I’d have shrugged if I wasn’t slowly being stretched between the three points. “You’ve heard of me as is only right. But I haven’t heard of you so you must be some piss-poor mage hiding behind his master’s robes.”
The mage approached and pulled the box out of my jerkin. “I’ll just take this and be on my way. My men will have their fun with you.”
“Not so fast.” My feet weren’t bound in spells and I took full advantage of that fact. I landed a kick where it counts the most. No man can keep concentration in the face of that agony. And the mage was barely a man. The binding spell dropped and I fell to my knees.
As I reached for the box, one of the gents stomped on it and it cracked under his weight. I hooked his ankle and lifted. He landed on his back with a ‘whoof’. I snatched up the box and ran. I hadn’t come prepared to deal with the mage.
The second goon tackled me and we both fell to the ground. I wrestled him to the bottom of the stack and a short quick jab to the chin had his eyes rolling up in his head. The box was smashed to smithereens and I could see the fat paycheck trickling away. A glitter of gold caught my eye among the splinters.
A ring. All this over a glitzy piece of fluff? Maybe it was for some girl. Some fools did extraordinary things for girls. It didn’t matter, maybe I could still get some of my commission if I brought back the ring.
I slipped the ring over one scarred knuckle, sliding it on to my little finger. A black oily cloud seeped from the ring and crawled up my arm leaving a chill in its wake. The mage eyed me while the magic enveloped me and then soaked into my skin leaving an awful nauseous feeling in my gut.
I spat a word that wasn’t fit for a lady’s ears. Hell, it wasn’t fit for a gentleman’s ears. My night had just got a whole lot worse.
